Rebel Diamonds
by blissedoutvixen
Summary: Sirius Black falling for a pureblood. Ironic, isn't it? SB/OC
1. None of us Were Angels

_**AN: This is a Hogwarts era SBOC story that I couldn't resist doing, because I absolutely adore him. It starts when they're both sixteen. Plenty of our lovable marauders and, unfortunately, Peter. Hope you like! Please read and review!  
><strong>_

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><p><strong>Song for this chapter: "Speeding Cars"-Imogen Heap.<strong>

**_"Now, now darling_**  
><strong><em> oh don't lose your head<em>**  
><strong><em> cause none of us were angels<em>**  
><strong><em> and you know I love you yeah"<em>**

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><p><em>Valentina <em>

_Welcome home. Your father and I regret that we are not able to be there to receive you, but, as you are surely aware, this year your homecoming date falls on the night of the Blacks' annual Yuletide Ball, an engagement at which our presence is most essential. Your father and I expect to see you there promptly after you've been delivered home. However, do not hasten yourself so much, Valentina, that you fail to look presentable. The house elves have set out appropriate apparel options in your room. The pearl earrings will work nicely with either the plum or emerald dress robes. A slight amount of perfume could perhaps be tasteful, but kindly do not slather on half the bottle. It will not do to have you smelling like a French whore. In addition, please be exceedingly careful when applying your makeup, and do so sparingly. It will not do to have you looking like an American whore either. __I deplore that I feel the need to explain all of this to you, Valentina, as it is quite ridiculous that you cannot be counted upon to simply know what is expected of you by now, but I fear that if I do not you would be liable to do something completely heinous, such as show up to the Blacks in your school uniform. Additionally, please lay your uniform neatly on your bed, the house elves will launder and press it for you. We've left a portkey on the dining room table for you. It leaves at 9 o'clock, and you'd better not miss it._

_Ludovico and Isabelle Vetra_

I rolled my eyes and carelessly dropped the note, watching it flutter down to settle on the dark, cherry wood table that was (if the routine had kept) polished meticulously three times a day by the battalion of family House Elves. Could my parents possibly be any more pretentious?

I shook my head disgustedly, and began stomping my way up the twisting, black marble staircase that led to the upper floors, dragging my carry-on bag behind me. The second landing, which led to my room, was adorned with an enormous portrait of Caterina de Medici, an ancestor of mine on my fathers side. She was infamous for her use of dark magic; committing acts so brazenly evil that even the muggles noticed and accused her of being a witch. And indeed she was. My father, of course, was pleased as punch to have an evil murderess for a relative, and never bypassed an opportunity to brag that he was related to the infamous Medici's.

My parents had placed Caterina so near to my room in order to remind me of my "noble stock", as they put it. Caterina certainly did seem to consider herself noble. She never spoke and spent all of her time staring disdainfully at anyone who passed beneath her portrait. Occasionally, she would sniff daintily. I avoided looking at her whenever possible. It made me feel vaguely nauseas that the blood of such a monstrous woman ran in my veins. I hurried past her portrait, enclosed in an exquisite, goblin made, silver frame, and made my way down the poorly lit, green carpeted hallway.

When I reached the door to my room, adorned with a silver plaque that read 'Valentina Vetra' in dark script, I nudged it open and heaved my luggage onto the bed. The monogrammed carry-on landed with a plop in the middle of the comforter, right on top of the dress robes that had been laid out for me there. I didn't care that they were now hideously wrinkled. If my mother thought I was going to wear anything she suggested, she was more delusional than I thought.

The woman certainly did know what colors complemented my skin tone though, I mused as I surveyed the plum and emerald dress robes she had chosen for me. My olive skin looked best in rich, dark colors, and I had to admit that the purple dress robes _were_ gorgeous. Too bad I would never wear them, if only out of spite for my mother. She would sneer that I was contrary and childish, and maybe I was, but it would be worth it to see the look of dismay on her perfectly made up face when I showed up in an outfit she hadn't authorized. I _lived_ to make her lose her control, even for an instant, and especially in public. It was tremendously satisfying whenever I could break through that veneer of cool, refined, grace and dignity that she put on, and expose what was beneath.

I began to undress, carelessly tossing the discarded components of my uniform all about the room; my tie flung on the lampshade, the blue pleated skirt kicked under the bed, my stockings balled in a heap on the floor. Again; childish, but oh so satisfying.

Now naked, I strode into the adjoining bathroom and started the shower, gratefully stepping under the torrent of hot water. It beat down comfortingly upon my back, soothing the stiff neck and shoulders I had acquired from the long train journey and subsequent boat trip from France. Even though we lived in Britain, my mother, who was half French, had insisted on sending me to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts. In addition to your standard set of magical subjects, Beauxbatons also taught what my mother liked to refer to as 'The Essential Arts for Ladies'; etiquette, dance, cooking, sewing, and music. It was part Magic Academy and part finishing school. I had thrown a tantrum of epic proportions to try and get out of it, begging my mother to let me go to Hogwarts along with Sirius, who was, and still is, my closest friend. But she was as unmoved as stone in the face of my tears, and informed me that I was going to Beauxbatons and that was the end of it.

Outraged and desperate, I made the mistake of appealing to my father. He had coolly informed me that he found the idea of me going to an all girls school a valuable piece of insurance. When the time came for my marriage, my purity would be unquestionable. It was on that night that I realized I was nothing more to him than a piece of chattel to be bartered and eventually sold off to the highest bidder. My father had always been distant and cool toward me, but he was that way with everyone, and I had assumed he felt at least some modicum of affection for me. I was wrong. I managed to hold in my tears until I was gone from his presence, before I stumbled sobbingly into the floo and went to Sirius for comfort.

Dragging myself from depressing memories, I concentrated on massaging my pomegranate scented shampoo into my long, dark brown hair. My hair is one of my favorite features (the other being my wide, dark-chocolate colored eyes, which are rimmed with long, coal black lashes) and I take good care of it. After gently scrubbing my body with a loofah and conditioning my hair, I braced myself and twisted off the hot tap, sending and icy shockwave of water over myself. I forced myself to stand in the icy stream and let the freezing cold water saturate my hair completely and run over my entire body. This was supposed to be good for your pores and your hair. Or maybe I'm just a masochist. After thirty seconds or so I shut off the tap completely and stepped out of the shower.

Twisting my hair up in a plush towel and patting myself dry with another one, I turned toward the mirror. Being the magical kind, the mirror hadn't fogged up despite my hot shower. I began to appraise myself critically in it. I frowned at my breasts, which were as small as they had ever been, modest B-cups, and then ran my hands over the slight curve of my hips. No matter how many times I looked in the mirror, I would still have the same waif like body type as my mother. I was almost unattractively thin, and had virtually no curves to speak of. I had yet to reach a height of 5'2, and the healer mother had dragged me to see had projected that I would grow no taller. Mother had glared at me upon this news, as if my height wasn't entirely her fault in the first place. She was incredibly diminutive herself, having topped off at only 5'3. We looked quite similar to one another, excepting our starkly different eye colors, hers being an icy blue and mine dark brown.

One thing I felt my mother did have the right to complain about regarding my appearance however, was my least favorite feature about myself; my nose. The rest of my facial features were as delicate as hers, but I had gotten my nose from my father, and it seemed to overwhelm the rest of my face. Mother despaired over it, and it was one of the only things we agreed upon, though I would never admit this to her out loud.

Leaning forward and wrinkling my nose in the mirror once, I forced myself to stop being so melodramatic. I looked perfectly fine, and tonight I was going to look fabulous. Wrapping the towel around myself, I stepped out of the bathroom and headed over to rummage in the carry-on for my wand. Once I had hold of it, I dried my hair instantaneously by magic. One of the only good things about the superiority complex of the old school purebloods is that they feel their children should be above the restriction for underage wizardry, and so they find ways to get around it. Not to mention, with the kind of dark magic most of the old families practiced there was _no way_ they were going to allow the ministry to monitor their homes. So all in all, it was rather convenient for everyone.

Although, I mused as I carefully applied smoky eye-shadow to my left lid, it might be worth not being able to do magic during hols if it meant the ministry finally caught on to the kinds of things my father was involved in and arrested him. My mother probably didn't actually use magic dark enough to get her tossed in Azkaban, but the scandal would surely devastate her. I smirked into the mirror at the thought. I truly was a horrible daughter. It was a pipe dream anyway though. If my father ever did get into trouble with the law, which was highly unlikely, he would simply bribe someone to get out of it.

Despite its implausibility, my little fantasy had cheered me up. Besides, I was going to see Sirius tonight, how could I possibly be in a bad mood? Sirius and I had been best friends ever since I could remember. Being almost exactly a month apart in birth, we had always been forced together at our parents' nightmarish parties and balls. He found me a willing partner in crime for causing havoc. Whether it was by illegal or accidental magic, or even good old muggle style pranking, we had usually managed to spice up the boorish parade of parties we were forced to attend throughout our childhood.

Maybe it was growing up being around each other constantly, but we've always understood each other uncannily well. Even when we were very young, I could always tell when Sirius was upset, even if he wasn't letting on. I would be able to tell right away what type of funk he was in and know just what to do to cheer him up. We told everything to each other, always whispering secrets and sharing inside jokes. We were quite obnoxious in our closeness actually.

It was with Sirius, when we were a bit older, that I felt able to confide how I felt about my family. Their beliefs and behaviors frightened and confused me. Sirius confessed that he felt the same uneasy disturbance about his family as I did about mine. I think we gave each other the courage not to conform. At least that's how it was for me. When I was still trying to figure shit out, Sirius was my rock of normalcy. He reassured me that I wasn't insane, or an ignorant brat for feeling differently from my family. _They_ were the ones who were insane.

We've always had each others backs. When Alecta Carrow stole her mother's wand and tried to cast a spell on Sirius that would freeze his face and prevent him from smiling (because, as she was constantly crowing, Sirius had to _serious,_ didn't he) I snatched it away from her and jabbed her in the eye with it before she could do anything. This prompted her to burst into tears and launch herself at me, scratching and biting. She loathes me as a result and I still have a scar from that incident, but it was completely worth it. I was the luckiest girl in pureblood society to actually have someone that was a true friend to me, and Sirius proved over and over that he was that. When Alexander Nott made fun of the size of my nose so incessantly that I began to cry, Sirius marched over and punched him in the face, breaking _Alexander's_ nose. It's still crooked, and I have to suppress a vindictive smile every time I see him.

When I didn't get to go to Hogwarts I was scared that Sirius would forget about me and we wouldn't be able to be best friends anymore. Of course, we each made our own friends at our respective schools, and that made the separation easier. Except for the fact that I was secretly terrified that Sirius would start to like James, Remus, and Peter better than me and he would realize that he didn't need a _girl_ for a best friend. But whenever we saw each other we fell back into the same easy friendship that we'd always had. I was still the only one he allowed to call him Siri.

I smiled to myself in the mirror as I put the finishing touches on my makeup job, lightly dusting some berry colored blush over my cheeks. To my great amusement, I had noticed in the last year that Sirius had started signing all his letters as 'the S.O.B.'. Apparently his mother had made the mistake of referring to him as a 'son of a bitch' in one of their heated arguments, failing to see the irony of this comment. Sirius thought it was bloody hilarious, especially given his initials, and he'd been signing his letters that way ever since. He found it to be entirely too appropriate, and, speaking as someone who's met his mother, he's not wrong.

I hopped off the stool in front of my vanity, having finished my hair and makeup. Ambling over to my carry-on I extracted what I planned to wear that night. The dress robes that I had picked up for the occasion were from a little shop in France, and made of a deep, red silk. I thought it a rather festive and appropriate color for a Christmas party. Doubtlessly my mother would disagree, but as the French say, _c'est la_ _vie_ or, such is life. Floor length and strapless, the robes were slinky and had a slit going up the right side that would enable me to walk with out falling over. That is, if my shoes didn't trip me up on their own. To go with my dress, I had chosen a pair of dangerously high, black stilettos that, while delicious to look at, weren't exactly conducive to, you know, walking. At least not without looking as wobbly as someone who was half in the bag. I'd probably take them off within minutes of arriving at the party, but Merlin help me they were simply too gorgeous to resist. I've always been something of a shoe-whore.

I put on a pair of black, lace knickers, before reaching forward and carefully extracting the red dress robes from my bag. I delicately slipped them on, enjoying the cool kiss of the silk against my skin. After adjusting the low, artfully knotted back, I padded over to my stilettos and stepped into them. Once I was steady on my feet, I tottered my way over to the full length mirror to have a look at myself. At the risk of sounding like an conceited sod, I looked good. The dress robes were very pretty, and with the height my shoes gave me I actually looked sort of…elegant in them. Almost like an actual adult. After all, I _was_ a few months past my sixteenth birthday now. Less than a year till I was legal. I couldn't wait. Slipping my wand into my clutch (what sane witch went anywhere without hers in these times?) I gave myself one last glance in the mirror before heading downstairs to catch a portkey.

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><p>Lurching forward, I skidded hazardously on the thin layer of fallen snow. I only just managed to avoid falling flat on my face by blindly reaching out and grabbing onto the first thing my hand came in contact with.<p>

Still breathing hard, but having managed to steady myself, I glanced over and realized that I had broken my fall by desperately latching onto the hugely, erect penis of a profoundly ugly gargoyle statue.

Fabulous.

The thing was so horrifyingly realistic that I could even feel great, bulging veins popping out of it. I was just trying to figure out a way to let go of it and not loose my balance when I became of aware of loud, barking laugh. I would know it anywhere. And suddenly I had been swooped up and set down on a stone garden bench by none other than Sirius Black, who was still laughing his arse off.

Sirius' laughter was contagious, and soon we were both in hysterics, falling all over one another and hardly able to breathe. I was laughing so hard that my stomach hurt, but I just couldn't seem to stop.

"God, Vee, I missed you," Sirius said after a few minutes, when we'd both managed to calm down somewhat.

"Mmm," I hummed, leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder, my updo already thoroughly disheveled, "I missed you too."

I turned my head and surveyed the grotesque statue which had been the cause of our bout of laughter. "Merlin, why is that thing even _there_?" I asked Sirius incredulously.

"Well, Valentina, when a man loves a women, or just seriously wants to fuck her-"

"I meant the statue, you prat!" I shouted laughingly, giving him a shove.

He sobered abruptly. "It's my mother," he told me solemnly, "She's recently developed a fetish for stone gargoyles. Finds them much more responsive than my father."

"You are so disgusting," I told him, but I was a laughing again. Merlin, he always made me laugh so much.

I shuddered theatrically, "The thought of Walburga having sex with anyone is just…" I broke off and shuddered again, this time for real.

"Incredibly disturbing?" Sirius finished knowingly.

I nodded.

"And yet," he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder, "In the grand sacrifices of life, that circus of horrors had to take place in order to bring me into the world. And we all know what a deeply profound tragedy it would be if I didn't exist."

He paused reflexively, "They really should have stopped after me though. Some things just aren't worth subjecting the world to that level of horror for."

"Where _is_ Regulus?" I asked, looking around the deserted courtyard as if he might pop out from behind a bush.

Sirius shrugged. "Who knows. Probably off licking Lucius Malfoy's shoes," he speculated darkly.

"So, what are you doing out here?" I asked in order to distract him from the unpleasant subject of his little brother. "Come to that, what am _I_ doing out here? Why on earth would the portkey send me to an abandoned courtyard? Shouldn't I have ended up in the foray or something?"

"Oh," said Sirius, fumbling around in the inside of his coat for something, "I fixed it. Wanted to see you first."

"Aw, that's sweet Siri," I said, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek, "but you're lucky you didn't ruin my shoes. I would've had to aveda you."

"You love me," Sirius said, finding what he had been looking for in his coat and extracting a pack of cigarettes from its depths. I raised my eyebrows. This was new.

"Since when do you smoke?" I asked him.

"'Bout a year now," he said, cupping his hand against the wind and lighting up.

"Look at you, all badass," I observed sardonically, tilting my head.

He flipped me off wordlessly and took a drag.

"So do your parents know?" I asked, referring to his newly acquired habit.

"Yeah, Reg saw me smoking one in Hogsmeade last year and wrote home to dear ol' mum and dad about it. Little shit. He should really get his own fucking life instead tailing me everywhere so he can report to them on me. He gets off on seeing them punish me. Twisted little fuck," Sirius said viciously.

I sighed forlornly, and stared out at the dark night, watching the smoke from Sirius' cigarette drift up to mingle with the stars, and then slowly dissipate into the blackness. It was depressing how life could end up as complete and utter shit sometimes. He was only a third year, but from everything I saw, and everything Sirius told me, it already seemed too late to save Regulus. Reg had always been desperate to please his parents, couldn't take being raged at and punished by them. To be fair, no one should have to endure that. When Sirius went away to Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor, Walburga and Orion brainwashed Regulus into believing his brother was a scum loving blood traitor unfit to share the family name. Now Regulus hero worshipped Bella the way he had used to Sirius. That was Reg; a sweet kid, but easily led. And maybe not so sweet anymore…Not under Bella's influence anyway.

"Alright!" I said, standing up abruptly and ending the moody silence we had sunk into. "This is bullshit."

Sirius looked up me, my outburst having torn him from his thoughts. "What's bullshit?" he mumbled from around his fag.

"This! I'm not going to spend Christmas sitting here on this bench staring at a gargoyle's penis and brooding with you! I see you once a goddamned year!"

Sirius let out a startled laugh, choking a bit on his fag. "Alright, yeah," he said, standing up and tossing his still burning ciggarette into the snow, "You go in there and make the rounds. I'll knick as much liquor as I possibly can and meet you in my room in 45 minutes."

I beamed at him. Now this was more like it! As adept as I was at dealing with Sirius when he was in one of his moods, that was decidedly less fun than getting rip roaring smashed with him.

"Aw," I pouted. "How come you have the fun part?"

Sirius smirked wickedly, "Because you, my dear Valentina, have yet to put in an appearance with the gilded masses, while I have already served my time in purgatory."

I made a face at him, but accepted my fate nevertheless. If I didn't hang around for at least half an hour pretending to make nice with everyone and pay my respects to all the appropriate people, mother would doubtlessly murder me with her bare, French manicured hands. I was already late, so she was surely severely irritated with me as it was. Joy of joys. Sirius was right, I had better do my duty if I didn't want him finding my pale, bloated corpse floating in the Thames a few months down the road. And that was _not_ a clean river.

Over the course of my morbid musings we had arrived at the beautiful set of plate glass doors that led inside. I could hear the strains of generic classical music and false, tinkling laughter floating out from the ballroom that awaited me. Steeling myself for my unpleasant task, I squared my shoulders and prepared to go in. Sirius leaned forward and opened the doors, ushering me inside ahead of him. "You'll do fine, Luv," he whispered, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze before vanishing seamlessly up a staircase.

And he was right, I would do fine. While Sirius was generally more sociable than me, and unquestionably more charming, he had a harder time masking his disgust and hatred of this crowd than I did. I could get through this. I would get through this. It just wasn't going to be fun.

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><p>An exhaustive hour later, I found myself staring plaintively at the ceiling as I tried in vain to tune out the bigoted rant I was being forced to endure. A sharp pinch to my lower back, courtesy of my mother, had me forcing my eyes back to Madam Lestrange. The mad old, hag was over 150 years old and certainly wasn't fooling anyone with that crisp, black hair that she insisted on maintaining. She was currently going on and on about the state of despair in the modern wizarding school system.<p>

"Even the most prestigious schools are letting in trash now! Crawling with mudblood filth, all of them," she spat, and I found myself avidly focusing on the mole on her upper lip as my mother nodded along in fervent agreement. My best friend at Beauxbatons, and really the only one I had there, happened to be a muggleborn and it made me sick that I had to listen to this kind of talk. Actually, what made me sick was that I was listening to it and not saying anything. That I wasn't spitting viciously back in Madam Lestrange's ancient, hateful face that she was a black hearted, bigoted, old, hag not fit to lick the shoes of any of the muggleborns I knew had me squirming with shame. Sirius might have said it, but that's why he had experienced the cruciatus curse and I hadn't. I couldn't decide if he was loads braver than me or just loads stupider. Probably both, actually.

"They're not even the same species, really," Madame Lestrange was saying now. "That our pureblood children are being forced into contact with them, forced to treat them as if they are _equals_, it's ludicrous. Ludicrous, I say! Durmstrang is the only haven. It's the only school not infested mudbloods and other revolting subspecies. You have to have quite the pedigree to get accepted there, of course. Only the oldest most respected names can get in. My great-grandsons go there, naturally, did you know- "

"I'm feeling a tad woozy," I announced suddenly, unable to take much more of this before I lost control and ended up doing accidental magic. "I think I'll just go to the loo…"

Madame Lestrange, being too caught up in her tirade and too full of herself to take any notice of me, and mother completely absorbed with her, neither of the women noticed when I slipped away. Heading to the far end of the ballroom I found myself at the foot of a rather daunting staircase. Slipping off my heels, I padded stealthily up the twisting, black marble monstrosity that led to the upper floors.

Standing outside the door to Sirius' room, I knocked three times to let him know it was me and edged open the door.

"'Bout fucking time!" Sirius announced once he saw me.

He made quite the picture, sprawled out lazily on his bed like that. His jet black hair was mussed attractively as he lounged against his scarlet pillows. Nestled on his chest was an open bottle of Firewiskey, the tip of the bottle neck poised between his chapped lips. He had yanked on his tie aggressively to loosen it, and his white oxford was now rumpled, the sleeves rolled up to expose lightly tanned forearms, slightly muscled. He had kicked off his shoes, and they lay haphazardly on his floor. Surrounded by Gryffindor banners and unmoving posters of bikini clad, muggle girls straddling motorbikes, he was the embodiment of sinful invitation.

"I can't believe you opened a bottle without me," I said, setting my heels down carefully on the floor and plopping down beside him on the bed.

Sirius shrugged unrepentantly, removing the bottle of firewiskey from between his lips and proffering it to me. "Help yourself, love."

I sat up and took a sip of the fiery liquid, grimacing as it burned down my throat.

* * *

><p>Two hours later and the alcohol had hit us.<p>

"Sirius Black!" I gasped in mock indignation, "Are you insinuating that I am anything other than an impeccably well brought up young lady of pureblood society!"

Clutching at my chest in disbelief, I accidentally groped my own breast. Giggling, I fell forward onto Sirius' chest. I nuzzled my face happily into his warmth. He was still laughing at my drunken antics, and I could feel the sound reverberating through his chest in a comforting rumble. I smiled softly. I'd always loved to hear Sirius laugh genuinely; his real laugh, not his bitter sardonic one or the harsh fake one he sometimes choked out for people who didn't know him well enough to see through it.

Gradually Sirius' laughter petered off, and I sighed, shifting against him, finding a more comfortable position. Sirius began stroking my hair, and for a while we lay like that in silence, caught up in our own thoughts. That was the trouble with alcohol, at first everything was hilarious and you loved everybody and the world was made of shiny happiness, but eventually that faded you got all introspective.

"Vee?" he said, and I could feel his breath ghosting across the top of my head.

"Hmm," I mumbled into his chest.

"Do you ever wish we were little again?"

I turned my head sideways on his chest and peered curiously up at him. "How do you mean?" I asked.

Underneath me, I felt him shrug. His shadowy gray eyes were swirling with a torrent of emotions that I couldn't decipher. Maybe it was the alcohol, but at that moment I couldn't read him.

He looked down, continuing to comb his fingers through my hair, which had long ago come undone from its updo, and now lay spread around my shoulders. "I dunno. Just that everything was simpler back then, I guess. When we were just kids."

"Yeah, I guess it was," I reflected quietly, thinking of how we used to play so care freely with each other, the prospect of getting caught not one that evoked fear, but a sense of edgy excitement that only heightened the fun of our games. How in our little world, the biggest problem was having to go to yet another stuffy, boring ball. Voldemort didn't exist back then, at least not to us, though he had already begun gathering a band of maniacally loyal followers and killing innocents. We were blissfully ignorant of his growing power back then. We were too little to see what was going on, too wrapped up in ourselves to perceive the growing, dangerous mentality that was steadily beginning to grip the pureblood world.

Sirius' hands had left my hair, and were now tracing mysterious symbols on my rib cage. I shivered at his touch and snuggled closer to him, feeling suddenly chilly, either from the lack of coverage my dress provided or the recollection of those memories, I don't know.

Sirius wrapped his arms tightly around me, clutching me to him. "'Member how you could always tell when I was feeling fucked up, and you'd just climb into my lap and make everything better?" he asked, his words slurring together slightly.

Yes, I remembered. I opened my mouth to say so, when the words faded from my mind entirely. Sirius' hand had drifted down my body, and he was now fiddling with the material of my dress where it had ridden up on my thigh. His fingers snuck below the hem and he began edging the dress farther up my thigh. I gasped and stiffened against him. His fingers stilled.

There air felt heavy with intensity. "Sirius, what are you doing?" I rasped, my eyes wide.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, and his voice sounded strange to me. There was a roughness to it, and he was no longer slurring his words.

"I…I don't know," I stuttered. My brain felt all floaty and Sirius' resumed ministrations on my thigh were causing my breathing to speed up.

His hand was caressing me now, and I could feel it burning through the thin dress material as he massaged my thigh and the curve of my arse. I didn't know why he was doing this, but Sirius' actions were sparking a surprisingly delicious tingling feeling in the lower part of my stomach. He slid his hand beneath the material of my dress, resting it on the bare skin of my thigh. My breath was coming in gasps now, and I could feel Sirius puffing harshly against my neck. He nudged me onto my back, his hand sliding with my body till he was cupping my arse, his hand separated from my skin only by my knickers. The thin lace of them allowed me to feel the warmth of his hand against me. I looked up at Sirius in wonder as he knelt over me.

I had always known Sirius was attractive. Once you reached a certain age, it was impossible not to notice. It wasn't that I fancied him or anything, it was just that I appreciated he was good looking. Who wouldn't? He was tall without being gangly, and his gorgeous black hair always seemed to look perfect, even when it was messy. He had a strong jaw line, now lightly dusted with black stubble, that kept his face from being too pretty. But it was his eyes that had always captivated me. Their intensity and color, which always seemed to be fluctuating between light and calm, to stormy gray, to almost black and back again, drew me in.

Gradually, Sirius lowered himself toward me. His face began to fill up my vision and I stared at his lips as they drew closer to mine. I didn't believe he would actually kiss me. I saw him moving closer, but somehow I still didn't think it would happen. But it did. His lips settled against mine and he held them there for a few seconds. The slight pressure of his lips on mine undid me, and I melted against him. We began kissing each other frantically. His tongue swept over my bottom lip, asking for permission to enter. I gladly acquiesced, and he began leisurely exploring my mouth. Our tongues stroked each other, and his body settled more fully against mine. I could feel a bulge against my center, and I gasped when I realized what it was.

Sirius had a hard on. Because of me. Because we were kissing. Holy shit. I was about to have a minor panic attack, when Sirius began kissing my jaw, and then all I could think of was how good that felt. He was massaging my arse with one of his hands, urging my body closer to the growing bulge. I groaned at the sensation of Sirius' erection against me, and my knickers began to flood with wetness. Sirius reclaimed my mouth, and I groaned into the kiss, thrusting my tongue against his. I began sucking on his tongue, and he bucked erratically against me. But my dress was constraining us, keeping us from getting the friction that we both so desperately wanted. With a growl of frustration, Sirius broke away from me, leaving me gasping for breath and aching for him. Blindly, he reached down and savagely ripped my dress. I gasped in shock and felt a thrill go through me at his animalistic behavior. More wetness pooled between my thighs. We couldn't get close enough to each other, and I whimpered in need, desperate for more contact.

Sirius hurriedly shoved the now ripped dress up my thighs, the cool, silky material sliding easily upwards. Hungrily kissing my neck, he thrust the hand not rhythmically massaging my arse in between my legs. I gasped involuntarily at the strange, intoxicating feeling of Sirius' big, warm hand pressed against my most intimate place. I could feel him clearly through my thin lace knickers, and the tingly, swoopy feeling in my stomach was quickly spreading lower. I squirmed against him eagerly, oblivious to the fact that I was getting my wetness all over him, and he began moving his fingers on me through the lace. He was so very close to touching my bare skin where no one but myself had ever touched before. I felt delirious with nervous anticipation, tuned in so completely to the things he was making me feel in my lower half that I couldn't really concentrate on anything else. I was just beginning to feel vaguely embarrassed that Sirius was doing all the work when one of his fingers rubbed my clit through the lace material of my knickers. I gave a little cry and bucked against him, all coherent thought flying from my brain.

"God, Vee, you're so wet for me," he groaned, as he continued to furiously work my clit, rubbing and pressing it ceaselessly.

"Sirius," I moaned, writhing against him. "Oh…God…Sirius!"

A wondrous, heady feeling like I'd never felt before was beginning to build inside me. I couldn't get enough of Sirius. I struggled mindlessly to get as close to him as possible, panting wantonly and periodically moaning his name as I jerked against his hand. The feeling was getting more and more intense, threatening to engulf me. The barrage of fantastic new sensations was becoming too much for me. My breathing and thrusts against Sirius' hand were getting increasingly erratic. I was on the brink of something. And that's when Sirius finally slipped his fingers beneath my knickers. The feeling of his hand against my bare, wet, pussy was one of the most erotic experience of my life up until that point, and when he swept the rough pad of his thumb over my clit I came undone against him.

When I came back down to earth, feeling both pleasantly relaxed and fulfilled, I slowly became aware of the fact that Sirius' hand was still inside my knickers, and that there was a rather large bulge pressing urgently against my thigh. My stomach began to squirm again at these realizations, and I looked up at Sirius. Flushed as I already was, I blushed when I saw the look in his eyes, and tingles began to spread renewed over my body. His pupils were huge with lust, and he was staring at me reverentially, as if I were some kind of goddess.

I could feel myself turning red, somewhat uncomfortable, but pleased nonetheless, with the way he was looking at me.

He slowly pulled his hand from my knickers, trailing my own wetness over my stomach and making me shiver.

"Wow," he said, holding up his hand and staring at it in wonder. "I didn't even have to stick my fingers up you to get you to cum."

This was such a grossly inappropriate, and yet entirely _Sirius_, thing to say that I couldn't help but bursting into a fit of giggles. I was feeling a bit giddy at the time.

"What?" asked Sirius confusedly. Still giggling, I sat up and lightly pushed him onto his back.

"Nothing," I told him, straddling him and settling myself on his stomach. Well, that shut him up. I leaned forward and briefly sucked on his lower lip before darting my tongue in his mouth. He happily let me in and promptly started to try and dominate me with his tongue. As I lost myself in the kiss, Sirius eased himself up so that he was sitting against his headboard. I slid down his body into his lap.

I gasped into Sirius' mouth as the feeling of his erection pressing urgently against my thinly veiled center sent a pleasant shock through me. I ground experimentally against it and Sirius groaned, thrusting his hips up to meet me. Wrenching my mouth from Sirius', I leaned my forehead against his, breathing heavily. My head was spinning dizzily. When I had gotten a bit of a handle on myself I sat up and removed my hands from where they were tangled in Sirius' hair. Placing them on either side of me and Sirius, I used my hands to lift myself up (Sirius groaned at the brief loss of contact) and began to drag my lace clad pussy lightly up and down the bulging outline of Sirius' cock. I had no idea what I was doing, but it seemed to be working.

"Fuck, Vee," Sirius breathed clenching his hands in his sheets as I teased him. His breath was coming in short pants and he began thrusting into me as I rubbed myself against him. Every time he did this it sent a hot little jolt through me, prompting me to rub harder and more solidly on his straining cock. Eventually it seemed Sirius could take no more of my pace because he seized my arse with both hands and began roughly grinding my hips against his. My back arched, anticipation of that bliss he had brought me to once before again beginning to build inside me.

We had been grinding, groaning and bucking against each other for a while when Sirius took hold of my shoulders and flipped us over so that I was on my back and he was straddling me. He sat back and reached for the button on his trousers. I watched, hotly fascinated, as he slid the button from it's hole and yanked them down. He lifted himself from me (unhappily, judging by the frustrated look on his face) in order to lose them completely. I found myself captivated by the tent in his boxers. Staring at me intently, Sirius slowly raised his hands to the waistband of his boxers and tugged down, unveiling himself to me.

My eyes widened considerably and my mouth fell open to form a round, silent 'O'. Holy ghost of Merlin. All I could do was stare at Sirius' cock in a combination of awe and mounting panic. How in the hell was that thing going to fit inside me? It was…big. I mean, not that I had seen a lot of penis' before or anything, but this was just sort of…overwhelming. I mean, just, wow.

Sirius must have noticed the rather stunned look on my face because he got this shit eating grin right before he reached down and tore my lacy, black knickers from my hips. I raised my arse slightly from the bed in order to help them along, and Sirius pulled till he had me completely free of them. He tossed them over his shoulder before locking his eyes hungrily on my core. I was feeling a bit exposed, completely naked for the first time, but Sirius was staring at me with such undeniable lust in his eyes that it was impossible to be too self conscious. Without tearing his eyes from my center, Sirius backed up until he was kneeling between my thighs.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. This was really happening. Holy fucking shit. Wait-

I reached up and grabbed Sirius' arm urgently, "Sirius. We have to do the contraceptive charm."

He jerked and wrenched wild eyes up to mine, "Huh?" he said unintelligently.

"The contraceptive charm. We have to do it."

"Oh. Right. Yeah…yeah," he said, reaching over to his bedside table and fumbling for his wand.

Once he had hold on it, he pointed his wand at my stomach and mumbled, "_Preoccupo Suboles_."

My stomach and lower regions were suffused with a cool tingling and then flashed pleasantly warm.

"Did it work?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, I think so," I whispered.

Sirius nodded and tossed his wand aside. Then he grabbed his impressively large cock and positioned the tip at my entrance. I instinctively spread my thighs as far as I could in anticipation of accommodating him. Breathing rapidly, Sirius darted his eyes up to mine as if to ask for permission and I nodded. There was nervousness tinged with my excitement now, but it was clear we were going to doing this. I bit my lip, and Sirius took a deep breath before he plunged into me.

There was a sharp pain, like a hard pinch deep inside me, and I saw stars. And not in the good way. In the, 'wow, this really fucking hurts' way.

It was only when Sirius said, "Vee?" cautiously that I realized my eyes were squeezed shut and I had bitten my lip hard enough to bleed.

"Can you just, hold on for a second?" I asked Sirius tightly, not opening my eyes.

"Yeah," he breathed out, sounding just as wound up as me, though maybe for a different reason. It wasn't supposed to hurt for blokes, was it?

I concentrated on breathing in and out, trying to relax and get used to this strange feeling of fullness.

Just as I began to adjust, Sirius squirmed against me. "Sorry," he gasped, "I just…it's…really hard not to move."

The squirming felt weird, but not too horrible. The pain was starting to fade a bit. "'S'okay," I gasped out, "Go ahead just…not too fast."

Sirius pulled himself out of me a bit and then began to pump slowly in and out of me. I opened my eyes and peered up at him. He had an odd, almost pained look on his face as though he was trying very hard to control himself.

On his next shallow thrust I hesitantly arched up to meet him. It felt pretty raw, but I tried not to let the pain show through on my face. As I continued to tentatively meet him thrust for thrust I felt tears prick the back my of eyes at the pain. I absolutely could not start crying. That would be horrible. But I was beginning to pray that he either finished very soon or it got better.

Sirius was raining down soft, sloppy kisses on my body as he pumped in and out of me and I tried to lose myself in their sweetness. While five minutes earlier the sound of him grunting things like, "God, Vee, you're so…..fuck….Vee…oh, fuck, Vee, my god." in apparent ecstasy would have seriously turned me on, now I just felt sort of vulnerable. I buried my head in his neck and nuzzled into him, breathing in the smell of his sweaty skin. Twisting my arms around his back, I clutched him as tightly as I could, which was worth the discomfort down below for how much better it made me feel.

The pain had faded to uncomfortable twinges now, and I felt sure of myself enough to lean back from Sirius, merely holding onto his warm arm. I began brushing kisses over every inch of his skin I could reach, longing to feel closer to him even though we were about as physically close as you could get. As Sirius ran his hands over my stomach, my muscles jumped at his touch and I felt stirrings of pleasure. It seemed as if it finally was getting better. I was meeting Sirius eagerly now, when his thrusts began to get erratic.

"OhGodVee," thrust, "I'm so fu-," thrust, "-cking close," thrust, "You're," thrust, "amazing I," jerky thrust, "fucking love you!"

And on those words he shuddered against me and I felt a spurt of hot liquid inside me. It was fascinating to watch Sirius come. His eyes were closed and he had this slack expression of mindless bliss on his face. He made a strange noise I'd never heard from him before, a sort of grunt/sigh kind of thing, and then he collapsed against me, sweaty and panting. I found myself smiling. Even if it had ended just when it was starting to get good for me I felt emotionally content at that moment. Sirius seemed pretty zonked and was nuzzling sleepily into my neck, still on top of me. I have to confess that I found it terribly endearing. He was acting like a great, big puppy dog and I thought it was absolutely adorable. He was kind of crushing me though.

"Sirius," I whispered softly, nudging him.

"Hmm," he hummed distractedly as he sucked idly on my neck.

"You're crushing me," I informed him.

Sirius detached his lips from the juncture of my collarbone with an audible pop. "Oh. Sorry, love."

He rolled slowly off of me, removing his now flaccid member from my body. It seemed much less intimidating when it wasn't standing at attention and rearing to go. Or maybe it was just that we'd already done it…

Sirius interrupted my lazy musings by pulling me to his neck and wrapping himself around me, tucking his chin on top of my head. He seemed content to take a nap, and I found I agreed with this sentiment, too tired myself to be much concerned for how gross and sweaty we both were at the moment. I snuggled back into him and closed my eyes, conscious of him dropping a kiss on the top of my head before I dropped off.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Ah, this has got me all nostalgic about my first time. It wasn't a horror story or anything, though I did, like Valentina, wonder how on earth it was going to fit up me. And I bled, which is probably way too much information. Feel free to share horror stories if you've got 'em. Review for any reason, loved or hated it. I have most of the next chapter written, so it should be up soon. Peace and love ya'll and send you're thoughts to Syria for me.<strong>_


	2. Houselves and Headaches

**_AN: 2nd chap, here we go. Please read and review! Hope you like!_**

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><p><strong>music for this chap: "All These Things That I've Done"-The killers<strong>

_"Another head aches, another heart breaks, I'm so much older than I can take, and my affection, well it comes and goes."_

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><p>I stared up at Sirius' ceiling, my gaze focused on an unmoving poster of a blonde, muggle girl with heaving breasts poised to pop out of her tiny bikini top. She grinned down at me vapidly. I felt numb. Well, emotionally numb anyway. My head certainly ached like fuck, and the area between my thighs was tender and sore, a constant reminder of what I'd done with Sirius earlier. He lay asleep beside me, snoring softly. I was intensely aware that he was completely naked, though his lower half was hidden under the tangled sheets, and that I was still clothed in the remnants of my dress. The contrast made me uncomfortable. We had been in such a frenzied state that Sirius hadn't bothered to properly undress me, simply tearing at my clothing till he had access to the right parts. For some reason that bothered me. It was as if we hadn't even done it properly. Weren't both people supposed to be naked during sex? At least the first time? The fact that Sirius had essentially hiked up my dress and fucked me made me squirm with shame. I was feeling like a bit of a slag, to be honest. You were supposed to lose your virginity to someone you were in love with, or at least that was how I'd always pictured it. Not with Sirius, my best friend, who I'd known forever. I did love him, I mused as I stared down at his slumbering form. But it was completely platonic. Wasn't it? But then why had…ugh, I could not make sense of this situation right now. My head was pounding, my thighs ached, and it felt as though my mouth had been coated in tar. I needed some fresh air, and maybe a drink. Of <em>water<em>, I clarified. I was never drinking firewhiskey again, I promised myself, eyeing the empty bottle that lay on the bedside table malevolently. Shifting gingerly, I winced at the pain between my thighs before slowly easing myself out of bed and into a standing position. The room spun around me. Ugh. Groping for my shoes (there was no way I could wear them at the moment) I stumbled my way into the hall and leaned heavily on Sirius' door. Once I caught my breath and could see straight again, I stowed myself and began making my way down the stairs.

Finding myself in the entrance hall, I breathed in the cool air floating in from the balcony gratefully.

"Valentina! Where have you been, I've been looking everywhere for you?"

I froze. Oh fuck, my mother. That was the absolute last thing I needed at the moment. I stared resolutely at the wall, hoping that if I didn't acknowledge her she would miraculously cease to exist.

"Valentina, you will look at me when I'm talking to you!" she barked shrilly. The sound grated, like sharp little knives were being twisted into my ears. I groaned, and spun slowly to face her, feeling as if I was meeting me doom.

Her critical eyes swept over me derisively. "My God, Valentina, what on earth have you done to your dress?"

"It got caught in a door," I said flatly, too drunk and emotionally exhausted to do battle with my mother at that moment. I moved to go into the ballroom, but my mother stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

She scanned me again, eyes lingering on the ragged tear in my dress which was exposing far more of my milky white thigh than was seemly. Realization dawned slowly on her face.

"Why, you little whore," she said softly.

I turned slowly to face her, dread beginning to build in my chest.

"Who've you been spreading your legs for this evening, hmm, Valentina? Who've you let use you like a cheap, Knockturn alley whore?" she asked with a deceiving air of calm, her voice maliciously mocking and laced with an underlying chill. My mother never yelled. She was at her most dangerous when her voice went deadly soft, like it was now.

She reached out and fingered the tear in my dress, icy fingers brushing my bare thigh. I flinched involuntarily, and she dropped the silky red material.

"Let's see, was it Lucius? He's always been a cad. Or Rodolphlous?" she speculated. "No, no, he's too devoted to Bellatrix. Maybe his brother. Oh, but he's chasing after one of the Rookwood girls, isn't he? God knows why, ugly little things with terrible breeding. I know," she said, bestowing me with a nasty smile, "It was the Black boy wasn't it. The older one. Sirius."

I concentrated on making my eyes as blank and emotionless as possible.

Suddenly her hand flew at me, delivering a sharp slap to my cheek. My head, already swimming from the firewhiskey, jerked back sickeningly. In my fragile, drunken state I was unable to hold back a gasp at the biting pain.

"You stupid, little chit," she hissed into my face, her breath tinted with wine, eyes flashing in rage. "This could ruin everything. I only hope you managed to remember to use the contraceptive charm, because if you've gone and knocked yourself up we'll have to ship you off a lot farther away than France."

It was small comfort to me in that moment, with my mothers hand digging cruelly into my arm to prevent my escape, that she wasn't sick enough to kill my potential unborn child. Doubtless the thought of killing a pureblood turned her patrician stomach.

I jerked out of her hold in disgust. "Don't you touch me," I ground out lowly.

She did not appear threatened by my words, much less did she heed them. Reaching out, she roughly grabbed my arm again. "Did you use the charm?" she demanded.

I was stubbornly silent, staring defiantly into her cold, glittering eyes. I was loathe to tell her anything, especially what she wanted to hear.

She gripped my arm more tightly, her nails biting into me, breaking my skin. I continued to stare defiantly up at her. "You know, Mother, you could be so pretty if you weren't such a hateful bitch," I told her conversationally.

"You useless wretch!" she seethed, disgust evident in her voice. "If it wouldn't create scandal I would beat you within an inch of your insolent, little life right this moment. Now tell me, did you use the charm?"

I stared at her, still refusing to answer. Our battle of wills lasted until she bent my wrist, twisting it sharply backwards. "Yes," I hissed resentfully, hating her at that moment with everything in me.

"Good," she said, flinging my arm back at me. "Then get out of my sight."

And with that she spun around in a flourish of deep purple dress robes and strode from the foray.

I watched her leave numbly, cradling my sore wrist. When she had vanished from my sight, and all that remained of her was a trace of her floral perfume, I allowed myself to sink to the to the floor and begin to sob.

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><p>I was still crying steadily a half hour later when I became aware of another presence in the foray. I raised my head slowly from my knees, hiccupping a bit, and peered cautiously into the dim light. A house elf with bulbous, anxious, blue eyes was staring back at me, wringing it's hands in worry. It looked female to me, but I couldn't really tell.<p>

I tried to collect myself, but found that tears continued to roll freely down my face. I doubtlessly looked a wreck. I'm not a pretty picture when I cry. Narcissa Black may have able to pull off the weeping angel of beauty thing, but I certainly couldn't. I was sure that by this time my hair was matted to my face with tears and my eyes rimmed unattractively red.

"Hello," I croaked perfunctorily, before burying my head in my knees once more and resuming my sobbing. The elf was apparently not content to let me do this. She cleared her throat, an awkward little sound.

I looked up again, begging her with my eyes to just leave me alone.

"Erm, excuse me, Miss," began the elf in a soft, squeaky voice, looking down at it's long, spindly, fingers which it was fidgeting with in nervousness. "Keeley, could not help but notice that the young Miss looked distressed. Is you needing anything?" Keeley, so it was a female.

"No, no," I laughed shakily, still half sobbing. I was receiving more kindness from a House Elf than I had ever received from my mother, or anyone else in my family for that matter. Not that I should have been surprised about that.

"I'm fine, I told Keeley, attempting to give her a smile. The reassuring affect of this was probably somewhat negated by the fact that I was still crying helplessly. "There's no need to bother with me. Really," I said, taking a deep breath and brushing my hair from my face.

Keeley frowned. I suspected that if she had had eyebrows, she would have raised one in doubtful worry. "If the young Miss will forgive Keeley for saying so, she looks a wreck."

I laughed again at the bizarre turn this evening had taken, though I fear it was somewhat hysterical and I was still crying. I just didn't seem to be able to stop. I wiped futilely at my eyes again.

"It's just been a bit of a rough night, Keeley," I said softly. "That's all."

"I is sorry Miss," she said solemnly, or as solemnly as one can when ones voice is so thin and squeaky. Then she glanced up at me and shot me a tentative smile. "Would Miss like a spot of tea?" She asked eagerly. "Keeley often finds that when one is upset a spot of tea can be just the trick."

I sincerely doubted that tea would be able to, as Keeley put it, 'be just the trick' and solve all my problems, but it might calm me down and make me feel a bit better.

"That would be lovely, Keeley," I smiled weakly at her.

She nodded her overlarge head decisively, "Right, Miss. Does Miss desire any specific brew?"

"Er, anything with vanilla would be good. Something warm," I requested vaguely through a sniffle. I finally seemed to be getting my river of tears under control and had now entered the post crying jag state of copious sniffing.

Keeley nodded again, rocking back and forth on her little, dirty heels. "Yes, Miss. Keeley will get that. Would Miss be needing anything else?" she inquired earnestly.

"No, no," I said, continuing to wipe my eyes. "You've been helpful enough already."

"I is only doing my duty, Miss," She told me. "Will Miss be alright alone while Keeley is getting the tea?"

I nodded, and with that the elf vanished with a loud crack, presumably to the kitchens.

I found that I was able to think a little more clearly after Keeley left, the House Elf seeming to have been able shock me back into coherence. Or at least make me realize how incredibly stupid I was being. I had to get out of this hallway. I was very lucky I had only been stumbled upon by a House Elf, and a sympathetic one at that. Thank Merlin Kreacher hadn't found me, the old toad. He knew I was friends with Sirius and as such disliked me strongly.

Or worse yet, I contemplated with horror as I stood shakily, I could have run into one of the guests. The prospect of facing any of the vicious sycophants that were in attendance made my already aching head throb all the more. Even the young ones could be really nasty, a lot of them, and would surely run tattling to their parents or older siblings. That was the absolute last thing I needed. My mother may have been a stone cold bitch, but she would at least keep this within the family, for the sake of her reputation if nothing else.

I glanced around for somewhere I would be able to hide out in peace, and caught sight of the cloakroom. It seemed as likely a place of refuge as any. I just hoped it wasn't already occupied. While we tended to be a _bit_ more creative than this, it wasn't entirely uncommon to find some insatiable couple shagging in the cloakroom at one of these things. I inched across the foray, suddenly nervous at the prospect of being sighted. Edging open the door to the cloakroom, I scanned the interior quickly. Judging the coast to be clear, I let out a relieved sigh and slipped in among the elegant cloaks and fur shrugs. Making my way to the furthest corner of the room, I sat down delicately on top of a hat box. When my weight didn't cause it to give way, I leaned my cheek into a luxurious mink coat and closed my eyes. I really was feeling so very tired…

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><p>It was the unpleasantly sharp poke of an abnormally long fingernail which gradually roused me into consciousness.<p>

I opened my eyes languidly to find myself staring into a pair of giant, watering, blue orbs. I promptly let out a startled little scream and jumped, managing to knock my head against the wall.

Groaning in anguish, I fingered the already growing bump on my head. That was going to do nothing to help my prospective hangover.

"Who's there?" I rasped into the darkness, my throat feeling as if it had been coated with foul, sticky, fur.

"It is Keeley the House Elf, young Miss," replied a squeaky voice that grated on my ears. I groaned again.

"I has brought your tea."

The memories began to rush back into my aching head like an unpleasant deluge. The conversation with my mother, Keeley, Sirius…

"Thank you," I managed to say, reaching weakly for the tea.

"Be still, Miss," said Keeley quietly, reaching forward and gently guiding the tea to my mouth. I felt absolutely pathetic. Who was I kidding, I _was_ absolutely pathetic. Nonetheless, I was grateful for the little elf. Merlin knows where I'd be if she hadn't found me. Probably passed out in the foray.

"I has took the liberty of adding a hangover potion to your tea, Miss," She told me, aiding me gently in sipping some more of the brew.

"You are an angel," I praised her reverentially. "Wherever did you find it?"

The aching in my head now receding, thanks to Keeley's miraculous potion, I saw that the little elf was blushing. It was rather adorable, for her being such an odd looking creature.

"Oh," she said, looking down bashfully, "I is finding it in Master Sirius' room."

"I see," I said softly, feeling well enough now to take the tea cup from her hands and administer it to myself. "Sirius."

"Yes, Miss," Keeley continued, reaching out to tenderly tuck a strand of greasy hair behind my ear. If she kept being so unbearably nice to me I was liable to burst into tears again, which would no doubt terrify the kindly elf. To distract myself, I made quick work of gulping down the rest of the tea/hangover potion. I grimaced briefly at the underlying taste, but on the whole was beginning to feel much better. Physically at least.

Sighing, I set down the empty tea cup on the hat box, which I had somehow managed to slip off of during my impromptu sleep. "Do you know what time it is?" I asked Keeley, suddenly alarmed.

"It is being just after four, Miss," she informed me promptly and without aid, House Elves having an innate grasp of time to aid them in their work.

"Oh," I said vaguely. "Well, that's alright then."

It was likely the last few dregs of the party were still going on, though it would be finishing soon. My parents would still be around somewhere. Despite my mother's fury, she would never leave without me. The scandal, imagine it, if I were to found passed out somewhere adorned in unsuitable attire such as I was.

"Keeley," I asked, "would you be able to check if my parents' carriage is still here?" I had better make sure it was, just in case. My immediate plans were to make my way out to it, curl up on the deep purple, velvet seat and attempt to sleep off my misery and the remnants of my hangover. I didn't feel ready to dwell on what had happened that night, and longed to be able to sink into the blissful oblivion of dreamless sleep. It occurred to me then that I might want to get some insurance on making sure that my sleep was in fact, blissful and dreamless.

"Keeley, do you think you might also be able to procure a bit of dreamless sleep potion for me?" I inquired hopefully, aware that I had asked rather a lot of the kindly elf this evening and feeling somewhat guilty for it. Another joyous emotion to add to the myriad swirling around inside of me.

Keeley nodded. "I is thinking so, Miss. Would Miss like Keeley to go now? Keeley can see also about the Miss's carriage."

"That'd be wonderful, Keeley, thank you," I said sincerely, making an effort to shoot her a genuinely grateful smile despite my exhaustion. I was tempted to give her a hug, but House Elves tended to respond…erratically to affection from humans, so I refrained.

Keeley nodded once again, a determined look on her face. "I shall be going then, Miss. Keeley will be back soon. "

The House Elf disapperated with a resounding crack, and I found myself unwelcomely alone with my thoughts.

In short order Keeley was back with the potion and the news that my parents' carriage was indeed still out front. I thanked her for everything she had done for me that evening, before sneaking out of the Black Mansion via the servants entrance, a fact my mother no doubt would be horrified by if she ever were to learn of it.

When I reached the carriage I paused and gave Onyx (my favorite horse of ours, and the one I rode whenever I was home) a love nuzzle, burying my face in her warm mane and inhaling her comforting scent. It made me feel a bit better. I raised my head and looked into her sympathetic, black eyes. "Oh, Onyx, I've really buggered it up this time," I whispered, stroking her muzzle. She snorted softly, and I gave her one last rub before stumbling my way into the carriage, tripping up slightly on the silver foot step.

The scent of my mothers distinct perfume clung to the inside of the dark carriage. Maybe it was the remnants of all the firewhiskey I had indulged in that night, but the cloying aroma seemed to press up against me; suffocating me, making me nauseous. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the cool, glass pane of the carriage window. After a moment, I opened my eyes and found myself looking out at a view of the sky. You could just see traces of the stars that were fading away as dawn began to break. Peering out at the remnants of them, I was inevitably reminded of Sirius.

"Fuck," I breathed out, turning my face back into the window, a new onslaught of tears obscuring my view of the Black Mansion. I had cried far too much tonight. I jerked my head from the window, suddenly angry with myself, and snatched up the vial of dreamless sleep I had gotten from Keeley.

Strictly speaking, alcohol and dreamless sleep weren't supposed to mix. But, I reasoned to myself before tossing the potion back with a rueful grimace, I had surely metabolized _most_ of the firewhiskey by now. That had been _hours_ ago, after all. I just had time to chuck the now empty vile out the window before my vision began to blur and I became enveloped by a pleasant fog. I fell back on the seat, and with the aid of a little potion, was dead to the world in a matter of seconds.

* * *

><p>The next thing I remembered was waking up to a series of sharp, little knocks. The sound was unpleasant to me, so I groaned and burrowed deeper into my sea of blankets. I was just falling back into sleep when my comforter was torn abruptly from my body. A blast of cool air hit me and I instinctively curled in on myself.<p>

"Up! Up!" shrieked a hateful, screechy voice.

"No," I mumbled futilely, making a grab for my blanket and attempting to pull it back over myself. I was prevented from this when an ice cold hand clamped down on my wrist. The same wrist my mother had grabbed the night before, and which was now painfully bruised. My eyes shot open at the pain and I found myself staring at the sickly gray-green hand of a house-elf. I let my eyes trail from the hand up the thin, wiry arm adorned with coarse black hair to eventually settle on the face of my tormentor.

Drig. Bane of my existence from birth till the age of eleven. Extraordinarily ugly, even for a house-elf, she had been my head nursemaid when I was a child. I had always hated her, and had taken great delight in creating havoc for her whenever possible, despite the harsh punishments she was permitted to dole out to me by my parents. Drig had a malicious nature and seemed to find sadistic joy in "teaching me lessons". Nevertheless, I took a perverse pleasure in antagonizing her. Perhaps it was Sirius' influence…

At the thought of Sirius I cringed and sat up, registering a raw soreness between my thighs. "Ah, good," said Drig, finally ceasing her infernal shouting. "Young Mistress is up."

I glared at her, but she didn't seem effected as she yanked me roughly from my bed. "The Mistress wants to see you," she informed me. "Get dressed and come down."

"I can't get dressed if you don't unhand me," I said, pointedly eying her hand which was still grasping my sore wrist. She "Hmmphed" but released me.

"Well, aren't you going to leave?" I asked nastily, as I walked to my closet and selected a loose, red day robe. My dress from last night had been removed, and I was wearing a modest night gown. Drig had most likely removed my clothes, judging by the unsightly raised scratches on my thighs and chest. She kept her sharp nails long and pointed.

"No, I am to stay here," she informed me smugly. "Mistress does not trust young mistress to be alone."

I rolled my eyes and begrudgingly shed my nightgown in front of the nasty, little, thing. Her eyes glinted as she eyed my scratches. I quickly shrugged on my robe and ran a brush through my long, tangled hair before heading to my adjoining bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. After last night, my mouth tasted like death.

When I emerged in the downstairs drawing room I was greeted by the sight of my mother. She was dressed beautifully in a flowing robe of white muslin that made her look like a Greek goddess. A particularly nasty and vindictive one. She was sipping tea, but looked up when I entered the room.

"Sit," she instructed me in a clipped tone.

I sat.

"Your behavior last night was disgraceful," she informed me without preamble. "You behaved like a disgusting whore. Your father and I are deeply disappointed in you. "

My father was not in the room, and I frankly doubted he'd even been told of what had happened last night. He left the handling of me almost completely to my mother (the upbringing of a daughter was an affair for women and house-elves) and would likely see my transgressions as a fault on her. Whatever the case, he wasn't here now, and if I didn't have to deal with him, I really didn't much care if he knew or not.

"Drig saw fit to inform of your lack of undergarments this morning," my mother said, gesturing to the house-elf, who gave a mocking little bow in my direction. So it _had_ been her who had undressed me, the wretched creature. I knew it.

I stared resolutely at the slice of grapefruit that sat untouched on the plate in front of me. My mother was only trying to humiliate me, and I didn't plan to rise to her bait.

Eventually she seemed to realize this. "Very well, sit there and sulk if you like. I shan't have to put up with you much longer." She paused here, and took a sip of her tea, as if to build the suspense. I clenched my hands underneath the table. "You'll be leaving for Beauxbatons later this morning. It seems you are unable to conduct yourself with the proper decorum here at home."

She informed me of all this as if she were raining some grand punishment down upon me, but in actuality I was quite pleased with this development. Any respite from my parents was welcome in my book. The only reason I even looked forward to coming here was to see Sirius, and at the moment I wasn't sure if I was ready to face him. My thoughts were all muddled, and I needed some time to alone to sort them out.

I had just risen from the table and was heading back toward the stairs when my mother imparted one last bit of maternal wisdom, "Oh, Valentina, make sure to put some cool cucumbers on your eyes before you're seen in public. They're dreadfully swollen."

* * *

><p>Two weeks after I got back to school, a letter arrived from my mother, joyfully detailing the scandal of how Sirius had run away from home and gotten himself blasted off the Black family tree. Numb with shock, I wrote to him. But no matter how many letters I sent, he never wrote back. Eventually I stopped writing.<p> 


	3. Want to Break Free

**music for this chap: "I want to Break Free"-Queen**

_"I want to break free_  
><em>I want to break free from your lies<em>  
><em>You're so self satisfied I don't need you<em>  
><em>I've got to break free"<em>

Three months later, March 1976 

"Let me see if I understand you, Miss Vetra. You wish to transfer to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

I nodded firmly. "Yes, Sir. I do."

The wizened wizard before me raised a bushy, grey eyebrow and steepled his fingers. His serious expression was rather at odds with his outlandish orange and purple striped robes. "May I inquire as to why?" he asked calmly. "Beauxbatons is a fine institution-"

"It's not as good as Hogwarts," I interrupted fiercely before I could stop myself, and then raised a hand to cover my mouth, absolutely mortified.

Dumbledore however, did not seem offended. On the contrary, he chuckled in amusement, blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"While, as Headmaster, I appreciate the compliment to my school, my dear, I have to wonder why you believe it to be so superior."

I took a deep breath. "Professor, there's a war on," I said quietly. "Even if he," I trusted Dumbledore would know who I was talking about, even if I couldn't bring myself to say the name out loud, "hasn't fully moved into the open yet, more and more people are dying. The ministry may continue to bury its head in the sand, but I can't. I won't."

Professor Dumbledore's eyes had narrowed sharply. "You speak of Voldemort."

I struggled not to flinch at the name, despite how stupid an aversion I knew it was. "Yes," I said shakily.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I do not entirely see what this has to do with your schooling."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow, wondering if he was testing me. "Don't you sir?" I asked, before narrowing my eyes in determination. If he really didn't see, I would _make_ him. "We're not allowed to practice spells on each other in our defense classes, did you know that? Madam DuPont says it will damage our 'delicate sensibilities'. She says we'll be able to depend on our future husbands to protect us, should the need arise," I let out a distinctly indelicate snort. "I need to be prepared to fight, or at least properly defend myself, not spending my time learning classical French cuisine." I said simply.

"I cannot argue that point, Miss Vetra, though I do rather enjoy Poulet à la Comtoise. Your desire to be self-sufficient is very commendable. However, I feel it is my duty to make sure that you understand the consequences such a change in schooling may bring. If you were to transfer to Hogwarts upon your 17th birthday, as will be your legal right as an adult in our world, I believe I am right in saying that your parents would be most unhappy with you. Such a transfer would, in fact, constitute a complete severing of ties from your family, unless I am misinformed of the situation." He said this all very seriously, before bowing his head. "A very sorrow situation, indeed," he declared solemnly.

"With all due respect, Sir," I said softly. "I think we both know which side of the war my parents will end up on. I think that maybe it's best that I split from them now. Before things get worse."

Dumbledore smiled wryly at me, but there was a tint of sadness discernible in the depths of his clear, blue eyes. "You certainly don't mince words, do you Miss Vetra?"

I shrugged. My tendency for blunt, unedited commentary had gotten me into trouble in the past, but Dumbledore seemed to appreciate it. Or at least grudgingly respect it.

He folded his hands and sighed, pushing his glasses up the end of his long nose. "Well, I see you are determined to do this. You will, of course, have to sit for your OWL's in order to be accepted into NEWT. classes. I shall speak with your Head Mistress and arrange a time close to the end of your school year for you to take them. Yes, I think that would be best. You will be able to use the remaining months to prepare. I will have my deputy Head Mistress send over some guidelines that should help you with your revision. You may, of course, feel free to contact me or, in light of my frequent unavailability, my staff, in the meantime, should the need arise."

"Thank you, Sir," I sputtered, stunned at this turn of events. This was really happening. I was going to go to Hogwarts next year (if I could pass my exams, anyway). When my parents found out, I would likely be disowned. I would no longer have a family. The prospect was a daunting one. But I'd always been somewhat reckless. And I did believe this was what I wanted, in spite of how difficult certain aspects of it would be.

Dumbledore nodded to me, and gave me a brief smile.

"Good luck, Miss Vetra," he said, his blue eyes twinkling merrily, and then he took his leave. As soon as he vanished from the office, I fell back into my chair, overwhelmed by everything that had just occurred.

* * *

><p>"You're really going to do it then?" Anna asked in a resigned fashion, china blue eyes looking sad. The two of us were ensconced together on my bed in the 5th year girls' dorms, gauzy blue curtains drawn tightly in an illusion of privacy.<p>

I sighed, eying her guiltily. Anna and I had banded together sometime in our first semester, and I was loathe to leave her alone with our dorm mates. She was a close friend, nothing like Sirius, but seeing as I hadn't felt an urge to have sex with her yet perhaps that was a good thing…

"Is it because of Sirius then?" she asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I sighed again, this time in annoyance. "Not completely, you know that," I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My reasons for leaving were complicated, and Sirius was only a part of it. Yes, I wanted to see him and try to patch things up before either one of us got blown off the face of the earth, but I was also dreading seeing him. Anna knew I wasn't only leaving because of Sirius. I'd explained the multifaceted reasoning behind my transfer a million times to her, but for some reason she seemed determined to make it solely about him. Growing up on the continent, Anna simply didn't seem to grasp the war that was building in my own country, hard as I tried to convey it. Voldemort and his followers hadn't even moved into the open in Britain yet, though mysterious deaths and disappearances were becoming more and more rampant. Certainly, the violence hadn't yet bled over into France. Of course, my desire to fight in a war I was already all too involved in because of my parents didn't make sense to a girl who had no stake in it. Who hadn't even seen it. Of course she was right, in a way. My feelings about the war were tied up with my feelings about Sirius. If I knew him, and I thought I still did despite his silence these last months, he would be fighting too. I couldn't sit here passively and unprepared in France while he was out there possibly getting himself killed. I just couldn't.

"Do you suppose he doesn't want to see me then?" I asked Anna, biting my lip in worry. "He still hasn't written…"

"I don't know. If everything you say about your families is true maybe he's just trying to protect you." Anna said musingly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's been disowned, hasn't he?" she said knowingly. "Which is insane, by the way," she threw me a look here, conveying exactly what she thought about the type of world I came from. "So he's not exactly someone your parents would want you associating with right now."

"I suppose," I said mulishly, reluctant to accept this possibility even though there was a likelihood it was at least partially true. "Or maybe he's just avoiding me because we had sex and now everything's ruined."

"There is that," Anna acknowledged. "But if _you're_ going to be a hopeless pessimist, then_ I'm_ going to go to bed."

Fair enough, I thought, staring at her without really seeing as she began to get ready for bed. Our other roommates trickled in and started on their own preparations, as I continued to stare at nothing, lost inside my own head. I still couldn't quite work out why or how me and Sirius had come to have sex, even though I'd been going over it in my head constantly since it'd happened. Well, we'd been drunk, obviously, and I'm sure that had been a part of it. There had been lust, yes, but I was almost sure that it wouldn't have been sparked in me if Sirius hadn't done anything. He'd initiated things and I'd just gotten caught up in the feelings he was evoking in me and gone along with it. Though perhaps that sounded too much like I was blaming him, which I wasn't. Or rather, I blamed both of us. The thing that unsettled me the most though, was that when I thought about it, really thought about it, I was almost sure that the reason Sirius had initiated anything had less to do with him simply being horny or overwhelmed with lust for me, than it did with him being depressed.

He'd already been home for a week, and as a consequence had been in a supremely dark and bitter mood, as he usually was when he was forced to spend time isolated with his family. I'd been able to see glimpses of his underlying black mood despite his happiness in seeing me, so that told you something. And I couldn't lie to myself, I knew how Sirius worked. I was familiar and comforting. We came from the same world, had a cache of shared experiences good and bad, and in the ways that mattered, I was nothing like his family. Perhaps, like the alcohol, I'd served as another form of escapism for him. After all, it wasn't until the initial happy buzz of the fire whiskey had worn off and we'd both begun to brood that anything had actually happened. With these disquieting thoughts chasing each other around my head, I eventually fell into a restless sleep.

* * *

><p>A few weeks later, in the sewing room of all places, Eloise felt the need to goad me, yet again, about my impending transfer. I was already vastly irritated, as I'd never quite managed to get the hang of embroidery and kept pricking myself in the finger with my needle. I would swear viciously each time this happened, prompting disapproving looks from Madame Bernadette.<p>

"I cannot_ believe_ you are leaving Beauxbatons to attend a school named after the skin disease of a _swine_," she told me, adopting a theatrical little shudder as she re-threaded her needle with deep green thread. "The British, they have such disgusting names for things."

"You are aware I'm British?" I asked idly, curious if she was cognizant of the fact that she was insulting me specifically, or if she was just being rude in general, as usual.

Eloise looked up just long enough to shoot me a highly disdainful look over the top of her embroidery. "Of course," she sniffed. "How could we forget, what with your deplorable accent?"

I shared an eye roll with Anna and then went back to staring at the blood beading up on my thumb in order to avoid sewing.

* * *

><p>The next couple of months were very stressful for me. Because the girls in my year wouldn't be taking any big exams till the following year, the environment wasn't exactly conducive to the level of study I needed to be doing. As a result I often ended shutting myself up alone in the library pouring over my mail order OWL coursework while everyone else relaxed. As a consequence of all the extra work I was doing, I let classes I considered unimportant (such as sewing and etiquette) fall completely by the wayside. By the end of the year I was virtually ignoring all coursework coming out of my 'Essential Arts of Ladies' classes, and sometimes not bothering to show up in the first place. It was hardly as if I needed lessons in etiquette anyway, what with it having been drilled into me since birth. I knew etiquette, and I could employ it very effectively when it was necessary. It could also serve as an easy crutch available for me to fall back on when I needed to mask my emotions, so I suppose wasn't completely useless. I was quite adept at adopting an icy veneer of polite disdain when it served me. In that way perhaps I wasn't as different from my mother as I liked to think, though icy disdain seemed to be her permanent state, rather than one she occasionally adopted as I sometimes did.<p>

Eventually, my lack of effort or results in these classes became noticeable, prompting a deluge of 'concerned' letters from my mother, which I largely ignored. Sirius, meanwhile, still hadn't written. It was the most stressful, intense semester I had ever had. Anna was pretty good about helping me revise, but she had her own coursework to contend with and there was only so much with which she could help me. All in all, it was with feelings of nervousness and apprehension that I sat my OWLs at the end of the year.

* * *

><p>M summer that year was spent furtively preparing for my anticipated flight to Hogwarts, and avoiding my parents at all costs, the latter of which garnered no suspicion whatsoever as I would have avoided them regardless, whether I was planning to abscond from the estate or not. My first endeavor, however, was a bit trickier. It was essential I secure and ferret away as many of my possessions as I could, given that my parents would surely disown me once they realized I had gone, and more importantly, wouldn't be coming back. From what had been gleefully relayed to me by my mother along with what I had gleaned through society gossip, Sirius' break with his family had been sudden, violent, and messy. Sirius' flight, which took place two nights after the party where I had last seen him, was supposedly the end result of a characteristically vicious screaming match between Walburga, Orion, and their eldest son and heir. After a great deal of profanity by all parties involved, and a bevy of highly illegal, violent spells cast, Sirius was said to have sprinted from the house and apparated (illegally) away as soon as he cleared the perimeter of the Black Estate, Walburga's screams of rage echoing after him into the night. I had no intentions of my own flight being anywhere near as abrupt or dramatic as Sirius', which is why I was planning it meticulously. When Sirius left, it had been with nothing. I couldn't afford to do that. I didn't have the generosity of the Potters to depend on like Sirius had had, no matter how much it may have hurt his pride to do so. I couldn't depend on the generosity of anyone. And so I planned, and I prepared.<p>

The first phase of my plan had been set in motion at the end of the school year, with some indispensable help from Anna. She'd been an invaluable friend to me, going to great lengths to help me these past few months despite the fact that she didn't fully understand why I was doing what I was. For the entirety of my last semester at Beauxbatons, I had been writing to Drig with requests that she send me various items. I needed more cloaks; yes, it was absolutely necessary for me to have a selection of at least six sets of dress robes to choose among for the spring dance; I absolutely required more slippers, and also more boots; my collection of shoes at school was positively anemic. Drig, who had served the upper echelons of pureblood society for the entirety of her wretched existence, did not find my requests unusual. She expected me to be vain, demanding and spoiled, and indeed I could be. Over the course of the semester, I steadily accumulated more and more of my possessions. By the end of the year, fully half my closet, including formal attire and jewelry was at Beauxbatons with me. Every time Anna went home for a weekend or holiday visit, more and more of my possessions accompanied her. The most prized of my things I packed carefully away at the end of the year in my massive trunk; my favorite books, my treasured jewelry box of dark cherry wood, and nestled under everything, five years' worth of letters from Sirius and a cache of pictures of us together. After we said our goodbyes on the last day, I dispatched everything with Anna.

In continuance of my plan, I'd begun covertly stashing valuable trinkets of small size within a box in the very back of my closet immediately upon arriving home for the summer. I made an effort to collect things that I not only knew to be highly valuable, but which I also had little attachment to or even found downright ugly. I wanted to make sure that no feelings of sentimental value would make it difficult for me to part with anything. Most of the items I took were innocuous enough that I hoped their absence would escape the notice of my parents. My biggest worry would have been Drig, who surely would have alerted my parents should she have noticed the thefts, but the elf had risen in the ranks such that she was no longer tasked with performing menial tasks such as dusting. Those duties fell to the general Elvish under staff, and I doubted they would notice anything amiss. Even if they did, they shared none of Drig's fanatical devotion to my mother. Perhaps they wouldn't even feel obligated to disclose the thefts if they _did_ notice them. My mother tended not to endear herself to the staff. Actually, my mother tended not to endear herself to anyone, come to that.

* * *

><p>I spent a lot of time riding that summer. When I'd decided to leave, it had never occurred to me that there would be anything I'd miss. I hadn't thought about Onyx. I'd been given the coal black mare for my 12th birthday, and she'd quickly become one of my best friends and biggest allies when I was confined to the estate, which was often, when I was home. Onyx was a pillar of comforting stability for me. I found riding relaxing, and when I was upset it served as an outlet for me. I could ride out my anger; ride until I was too exhausted to feel anything but the wind on my face and the rush of the run.<p>

For a brief while, I let myself indulge in the fantasy that I could make my escape on Onyx. But my life was in no way a fairytale, and I wouldn't get to ride off into the sunset. Even if I could find a place to keep Onyx, which I doubted I would be able to, it would be impossible to finance her upkeep. I only wanted the best care for my girl, and reluctantly I was forced to accept that she wasn't going to get that with me. I resigned myself to saying goodbye, but it was difficult. I hated to leave her, but at the same time I knew I was being selfish and that I had to. She'd always been the strong one of the pair of us. She'd be okay without me. She had to be. But in the meantime, I was going to ride her as much as I could before I left.

It was no surprise, therefore, that I was in the stables when my OWL results arrived. Clutching the envelope in my hand, I leaned heavily on Onyx and steeled myself to open it. If I hadn't gotten OWLs in enough subjects, I was absolutely fucked. Everything was fucked. Taking a deep breath, I tore open the envelope, perhaps more savagely than was warranted. Forcing myself to focus, I scanned results, words and letters blurring before my eyes before they coalesced into readable form.

**Ancient Runes:_ O_**

**Astronomy:_ A_**

**Charms: _E_**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts: _E_**

**Herbology: _O_**

**History of Magic:_ A_**

**Potions: _O_**

**Transfiguration: _E_**

I sank against the wall of Onyx's stable, letting my head fall back against the would paneling with a clunk. It no longer seemed as though my limbs were capable of supporting me. "Fuck," I breathed laughing weakly. Fuck. I was going to Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>"No, not the red," my mother snapped, dragging me away from the deep, blood red, dress robes I had been fingering absently. Still holding my wrist in her tight, claw like grip, she spun towards me and narrowed her eyes. "What is this obsession you have with red, Valentina?" she asked with an air of immense exasperation. "It's not in season. And besides, it's a whorish color."<p>

Even though she was looking right at me, I was unable prevent an eye roll. Honestly, I have no sense of self preservation. But we were in public, so no matter how thin her lips got as her patience with me was stretched she would restrain herself. To a degree anyway. My mother was nothing if not conscious of familial reputation. I smiled. She was in for a nasty surprise in a few days. What were the chances, I pondered idly as she continued to drag me around the store, that mother would succumb to some kind of rage induced fit when I ran away? It was the Saturday before my 17th birthday, or as mother was referring to it 'my coming of age', and she had booked a private session at a very posh dress-robes boutique in order to have me properly outfitted for the occasion. It was a complete waste of time, of course, I wouldn't be attending my banquette. But she didn't know that, and I'd let her maintain her delusions for a little while longer.

Mother slowed, narrowing her eyes at me once again. It's something of a habit of hers. She finds me very vexing. "Why are you smiling?" she asked suspiciously.

I shrugged. Her eyes narrowed further.

"Don't shrug Valentina, it's not attractive."

* * *

><p>The day of my 17th birthday seemed to go by in a floating haze of disassociation. The only part I remember with any semblance of real clarity was the encounter I had with Regulus as I departed that night.<p>

Endowed with the new capacity to do legal magic, I was unlocking the small, hidden gate in the back garden wall. It was usually used by the house elves who tended the garden in order to receive new flowers or plant species from the outside world. A human wasn't meant to go through it. It'd be a tight fit even with how petite I was, but it was my best exit option. My parents didn't give much thought to how it was that our expansive gardens were maintained. If they'd ever know about the little white gate nestled in the back corner of the garden, largely hidden from view by a pear tree, I was counting on them not to remember it now.

I was shoving my bag full of covertly appropriated trinkets through the open gate, making sure to cushion their descent to the other side with magic so as not to break anything, when I spotted him. Or rather, spotted that he had spotted me. Our back garden boarders the Black estate, and we share an expanse of stone wall with them. Sirius and I had played often on it as children, sometimes joined by Regulus in our games. And now Regulus was perched upon the stone, watching me intently. Unsettled, I turned to stare back at him. I couldn't see his eyes clearly in the dark, but I knew them well. Dark and deep and troubled, so very like his brother's. But unlike Sirius, it'd been a long time since I'd seen laughter in Reg's eyes. We stared at each other across the dark. Nothing was said, but it was like I could feel the weight of our common history heavy between us. After a few moments, Regulus turned from me and jumped down from the wall, heading back inside the Black Estate. I watched him as he slipped inside. In that moment, I felt closer to Regulus than I had in years, and yet at the same time, he seemed further away than ever. Eventually I turned away myself, shimmying through the garden gate, and vanishing into the night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Does anyone remember this story? I haven't updated it in like, a year, but I think I want to work on it again.<strong>


	4. See Through You

**Music for this chap: "Outside"—Staind**

_"'Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me,_

_I can see through you, see to the real you,"_

* * *

><p><span><strong>September 1, 1976<strong>

For better or worse, I've always thrived on dramatics. There's something thrilling in doing the outrageous, the shocking; in causing scandal and spectacle, and then sitting back and watching how it all plays out.

My arrival in the Great Hall had certainly created a spectacle, I mused, and now I just had to see how it would play out for me, though I found myself rather more invested in the outcome of this drama than I typically was. The Great Hall had been abuzz with talk from the minute Dumbledore had announced me as a transfer student and brought me out to stand next to the first years. They were a nervous, twitchy bunch, many of them pale, some of them trembling. I suppose I fit right in, though I was nervous for a different reason. And I'm always pale, no matter my emotional state.

I stared mulishly at the stage, not even taking in the wonder of Hogwarts' Great Hall. I'd have plenty of time to see it later, and I knew that the second I looked up that my eyes would find him. As it was, I was sure that I could feel _him_ staring at me. Sirius. He must of have been. It wasn't as if Sirius had known I'd be coming, though I suppose he could have guessed when he'd heard I run away. Seeing me would be just as much a shock for him as anyone else. Regardless of whether he'd guessed I'd be coming or not, I had no desire to face him yet.

He may have been part of why I'd come here; but he was only one of many reasons I'd done what I had. Truthfully, I was still quite furious with him, and underneath that very hurt. But I've always had a weakness for Sirius. I feared that the moment I looked at him that a bunch of stupid, uncontrollable emotions would come rushing over me and overwhelm me into forgiving him. And I simply wasn't ready for that yet. Of course I planned to forgive him eventually. I loved him, I always had. But I wanted it to be on my own terms. Not driven by a mess of my own emotions.

The stern, black haired witch who I knew from Sirius' stories to be Professor McGonagall startled me from my thoughts. She was saying something and gesturing at a footstool that was topped by a rather dodgy looking black hat. The sorting hat, I presumed, when it opened a previously unseen mouth of sorts, and began to sing in a rather high pitched and reedy little voice.

"_Oh I may look old and dingy,_

_Have a few unraveling seams,_

_But come forth, now don't be stingy,_

_For I'm more than what I seem; _

_I'll peer inside your mind,_

_See your deepest thoughts and dreams,_

_Grant me just a little time,_

_And your inner essence I'll have gleaned;_

_Perhaps you're full of fiery drive,_

_And meant for Gryffindor,_

_Bold and imbued with bravery,_

_It's in Godric's noble house you'll thrive;_

_Or mayhap accepting Hufflepuff,_

_Is where you in fact belong,_

_For in that great house the values,_

_Of hard work and loyalty are strong;_

_Possibly you're destiny awaits you,_

_In the house of wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If your wit, originality and intellect,_

_Makes others stand in awe;_

_Or the elite environment of Slytherin,_

_Could be where you really prosper,_

_A house in which those shrewd traits,_

_Of ruthless ambition and cunning are fostered;_

_But whichever house I deem you meant for,_

_My dears just keep in mind,_

_That the others too have much to offer_

_Look to them, and you may be surprised at what you find."_

After the hat had finished, there were a few seconds of delayed silence before the hall burst into a chorus of clapping and raucous cheering. The sorting hat seemed to almost nod, as though taking in the applause as its due. While the first years gaped in awe at the formerly vocal hat, I narrowed my eyes at it and began devising strategy. There was only one house that was a possibility for me, and that was Gryffindor. And if that hat wanted to put me anywhere else, I would simply have to turn it to my way of thinking.

I watched idly as one by one the first years were sorted into their new houses, looking various degrees of terrified as they approached the sorting hat to endure it's assessment of their character. Some were placed right away, but others were forced to sit under the hat for what felt like ages before the thing finally announced a house for them. As a transfer student, which, from what I gathered, was a fairly unusual occurrence, I was to be sorted last, after all of the first years had already been dealt with. In the interim, I stared at my feet, and alternatively the ceiling (it was a clear night, barely any stars) and the hat itself. The sorting, it seemed, was quite the drawn out affair, and it seemed a long while before the last of the first years had been sent on their way and it was finally my turn.

"_VETRA, VALENTINA_", the hat called, after what felt like an eternity. A hush came over the hall as I stepped forward. Doubtlessly many of the students were interested in where I'd be placed. I sat gingerly on the stool, just catching a blurry glimpse of the hall before the sorting hat was placed on my head by Professor McGonagall. And then all I could see was darkness.

'_Well, well, a transfer. Isn't that interesting'_, the voice of the hat murmured into my ear. I jumped minutely, a bit startled despite myself.

'_An interesting case all around, actually'_, it mused. _'But where to put you, let's see,'_

'Gryffindor', I thought fiercely.

The hat huffed, and I swear I could almost feel a phantom puff of breath against my ear. _'Well I don't know about that,'_ the hat said, seeming somewhat miffed_. 'What you've done certainly took bravery girl, I won't deny that, but it also took a great deal of cunning. You're not one to rush into things without thinking, that's for certain. No, you plan things out. Weigh your options.'_

I frowned, not liking where this seemed to be going. 'I _cannot_ be put in Slytherin,' I told the hat emphatically. 'It will ruin everything,'

'_And what precisely, dear, is everything?'_ the hat asked seeming, much to my chagrin, a bit amused.. _'You could thrive in Slytherin; you have both the disposition and the mind for that house.'_

'I will not let you throw me into the snake pit with a bunch of Death Eaters and Death Eater wannabes!' I hissed.

The hat seemed to sigh. '_You underestimate yourself child. Even given the current political climate in Slytherin, I still have no doubt that you could succeed there.'_

'If you think I could share a common room with Alecta Carrow and succeed in not punching her in the face than you _overestimate _me,'

The hat sighed once again, as though deeply exasperated with me. _'Fine, if you insist- __**GRYFFINDOR**_,' it shouted the last word to the whole hall, and I couldn't help smirking somewhat triumphantly. I'd certainly succeeded in one thing; getting what I wanted.

I plucked the sorting hat off the top of my head, handing it to McGonagall and smiling jauntily at me new Head of House. The older witch raised one thin, neat eyebrow and leveled me with an assessing look. I tried not to be intimidated as I hopped off the stool, but I could feel her shrewd eyes follow me to the Gryffindor table, and I have to admit that it did unsettle me somewhat.

What had Dumbledore said to her, I wondered absently as I slid into a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table. What did McGonagall know about me to make her look at me like that? Putting it out of my mind, for now, I turned to face my new house mates, or at least the ones that were in closest proximity to me. I had seated myself across from a pair of girls who appeared to be about my age, one a sort of pale, washed out looking blonde and the other a green eyed girl with a head of vibrant, red hair. The blonde was staring at me assessing in a manner eerily similar to McGonagall.

"Why is Black staring at you like you're the ghost of someone he saw violently murdered?" she asked slowly around her food, narrowing her eyes at me.

I startled, preparing to inform her that it was absolutely none of her business, when the red head, who I now noticed was wearing a prefect badge, elbowed her friend sharply in the side. "Dorcas, don't be rude!" she chastised.

The newly proclaimed Dorcas, huffed. "Well, he is staring. Both of them actually, his brother too. It's weird."

The red head frowned thoughtfully. "Do you know them?" she asked curiously.

"We grew up together," I said somewhat stiffly, reaching for the tray of mashed potatoes that had suddenly materialized and piling some onto my plate.

"Hmm," said Dorcas. "Well that is an interesting development,"

I raised an eyebrow. "Is it?"

"Quite," she said simply. "You must be a pure blood then, if you grew up with the Black Brothers. Vetra, wasn't it?"

"Mmm," I hummed vaguely. "And you are?"

"Oh, how rude of us!" The red head interjected. "I'm Lily Evans, and the impertinent blonde next to me is Dorcas Meadows," she explained, darting a glance at her friend and smiling somewhat wryly.

"Lily Evans," I murmured to myself. Sirius had mentioned her in his letters quite a few times, if I remembered correctly. "Are you the one Potter's in love with then?" I asked.

Dorcas let out an indelicate guffaw, while Lily straightened in her seat, looking quite indignant. "Well, I don't know where you heard _that_ load of tosh, but let me clear something up for everyone," Lily said loudly, her voice projecting down the table, "James Potter is not in love with me. He is infatuated with the idea of someone who doesn't even exist," she announced, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring defiantly around the table as though daring anyone to contradict her. No one in the immediate vicinity did.

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Noted,"

"Well…good," Lily replied, seemingly a bit flustered by the exuberance of her own outburst now that it was over. "I'm glad that's been cleared up."

Dorcas gave a theatrical eye roll. "We can discuss your love life later Lils. What I want to know is why Vetra here isn't sitting with Black, given that they obviously know each other."

"Yeah, I'd like to know the answer to that one myself," I heard from behind me as someone slid into the spot next to me on the bench. Sirius. Merlin's fucking pants I wasn't ready for this! "What gives, Valentina?"

What gives? Was he fucking joking? I bristled, bracing myself before turning to face him. I felt something in my chest squeeze painfully at the sight of him when I finally met his eyes, and wasn't that just sickeningly melodramatic? It was the first time in almost a year that I'd seen him. We'd never gone so long without seeing each other before, and the thought made me faintly sad. He looked older, his hair a bit longer than the last time I'd seen him. Still as handsome as ever though, naturally. Of course he was. I struggled to push down on my emotions, turning away from him once more.

"We'll talk later Sirius," I said, quietly but firmly. "After dinner."

"After-Why are you—fuck!" he sputtered, before standing abruptly and pushing himself up angrily from the bench. "Fine," he said quietly, and then stalked away to take a seat at the other end of the table among a group of boys whom I could only assume made up the remainder of the Marauders.

"Damn," said Dorcas, whistling lowly. "You just dismissed the fuck outta Black. I haven't seen him get his balls handed to him like that since Lauren Ashby slapped him in the middle of the common room and told him he was a bastard," she related gleefully, seeming somewhat impressed despite herself.

I shot her an irritated glance, but didn't respond otherwise. I hadn't been trying to be dismissive, I thought defensively. I just didn't want to fight with Sirius in front of the whole student body. And I had a feeling that when we did finally talk, it might get ugly. We both had tempers, and we were both, I think, hurt and confused by each other's actions. I knew that we needed to sort ourselves out, but that certainly wasn't something I wanted to attempt with an audience. It'd been nine months since we'd even spoken; we could wait a little longer to hash things out, I thought.

Lily, meanwhile, was staring at me with a concerned, contemplative look on her face. I was starting to get an uneasy feeling about that one. For all that Dorcas had been brash and pushy as all hell, I had a feeling that Lily might turn out to be something far more dangerous; insightful.

* * *

><p>The second I exited the Great Hall and emerged into Hogwarts's vast, stone entryway, Sirius cornered me. Grabbing my wrist, he dragged me away from the crush of the rest of the students, ushering me into the relative privacy of a side corridor.<p>

"Fucking Christ, you won't even look at me, hardly," was the first thing he said, kicking roughly at the stone floor with his shoe. "Why won't you look at me, Valentina?" he asked, staring up at me imploringly, an edge of confused desperation in his voice.

"I haven't seen or heard from you since last Christmas Sirius," I said tiredly. "Nine months, and nothing; not a single fucking letter or word from you. Do you really think we can just go back exactly to how we left off, Sirius. After all that?"

He locked his jaw stubbornly, and I thought that maybe that had been what he'd hoped for. That we could just go back to right where we were before the night he left and everything would be exactly how it was. I shook my head sadly.

"You didn't write to me either!" Sirius protested hotly. "After you left. I read about it, in the _Prophet_. I didn't even know where you were, Valentina. Didn't even know if you were okay," he finished quietly.

"You think I don't know how that feels Sirius!?" I cried, and I could hear the evidence in my voice of the tears that were beginning to claw their way up out of my throat. "For half a year you knew exactly where I was, Sirius," I pointed out harshly. "And I did write to you then, over and over, but I never got anything back."

Sirius was staring guiltily at the floor, but I kept going, immune to him for once. "You froze me out, and I have no idea why. What did I do Sirius? What did I fucking do to make you ignore me like that? I just wanted to know you were okay! You just_ left_ and I had to hear about it from everyone else because you wouldn't write back, no matter how many times I tried to reach out to you! _Why?_" I cried desperately.

"I knew they'd be policing your owls," he mumbled, still staring at the stonework of the floor.

"Oh, Come on, Sirius," I cut in nastily, infuriated and frankly insulted by such a stupid, transparently bullshit explanation. "Let's be real. Please. We both know you could have found a way to get a letter to me if you'd really wanted to. Don't sell yourself short. You're a _Marauder_," I put a mocking emphasis on his beloved title, and he glared at me, his jaw tightening in anger and frustration. He opened his mouth, but I cut him off again before he could say anything.

"For Merlin's sake Sirius, I swear, you had better not continue to bullshit me right now," I hissed, seething.

He pushed himself off the wall, eyes flashing dangerously. I could see that he was warming to our fight, the heady, intoxicating high he got whenever he was involved in a good row beginning to overtake him.

"Alright, fine!" he snarled. "I could have gotten an owl to you. But I didn't."

"Well, why the bloody buggering hell not!" I screamed up at him.

"Because I couldn't face you!"

"Couldn't face me!" I screeched. "Couldn't face me!? For fuck's sake Sirius, I'm supposed to be your best friend!"

"Yeah!" he roared back indignantly, directly into my face, so close I could feel his hot breath on my cheeks. "You are! And I fucking shagged you!"

I couldn't help myself, I slapped him. A little melodramatic, yes, but I've never claimed to be anything but that. Growing up in the environment I had, some of it was bound to rub off on me. And merlin help me, but I was so fucking angry at him in that moment that I couldn't seem to restrain myself.

"Don't you even bring that up," I hissed lowly into his face, my voice vibrating with barely controlled rage. How dare he?

But Sirius seemed oblivious to my threatening manner. "You hit me," he stated incredulously, raising his hand to his right cheek, where a bright red, handprint was beginning to form. "You fucking hit me!"

I reached up and roughly grabbed his chin, turning his face towards mine, forcing him to pay attention to me. "You don't get to talk about that night, Sirius. It doesn't have anything to do with this."

"The fuck it doesn't!" he shouted, wrenching out of my grasp. "Excuse me if losing my virginity and running away from home in the same fucking weekend had some kind of an effect on me!"

Later on, I would be able to look back on this and appreciate the utter absurdity and hilarity of Sirius Black shouting about losing his virginity in the middle of the corridors. Thank Merlin no one heard though. Adjusting to Hogwarts and being around Sirius again was going to difficult enough without having to contend with a hoard of gossip spewing vipers having gotten ahold of this.

"Shut. Up." I ground out. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry.

"So, what?" he said harshly. "We're just going to pretend that, that-" he struggled to find words, and ended up gesturing expansively in the air behind him in exasperation, "-didn't happen."

"Wow, Sirius, right in one. You always were so bright," I bit out icily. "Denial always has been my defense mechanism of choice."

"Really? Because I thought it was sarcasm."

"Look," I said, folding my arms across my chest in an unconscious defensive gesture. "You're the one who didn't write, okay."

I saw guilt flash across his face, disrupting the anger. My accusation seemed to deflate him a bit, and he sighed, running his hands agitatedly through his hair. "I was going to I just-, I was going through a lot of shit."

"Yeah, I know," I said, trying not to sound bitter or dismissive, because I _did _know. But I was hurt that he hadn't written to me about it. Any of it. We had always gone through things together, even after we'd been shipped off to separate schools. Always. And it absolutely killed that he hadn't written to even tell me himself what was going on with him. I had to find out from my mother, of all people, the smugness positively dripping out of her letter because she just 'always knew that boy was scum' (yeah right, like her and Walburga hadn't been planning to see us married since we were two) and that 'the Blacks have been begging to get knocked down off their high horse for years, so 'serves them right' if you ask her.

She was clearly gloating, the insufferable bitch, and meanwhile, I feel as if someone's tossed me naked into the Baltic Sea. I was totally gutted, not just over Sirius' situation and what he had done (which on some level, I had seen coming for years), but from finding out in such a fashion. Finding out from anyone but him.

It hurt that even after what had happened, and how messed up everything was, that he hadn't written to me. That just because of one stupid night he felt he couldn't come to me in what was probably the most difficult time in his life so far. Yeah, that hurt. And it scared me. Because I couldn't stand to lose our friendship over one drunken night of stupidity. And I suppose that maybe it was petty to turn around and do the same thing to Sirius, just a few months later. To just leave, and let him find out from the papers like everyone else. But sometimes I'm a stubborn, spiteful little creature, I can admit that, and I certainly wasn't going to write to Sirius first. Not after everything. Not after I had written to him so many times before and gotten absolutely nothing back.

Sirius sighed and let his head fall back against the wall, breaking me out of my internal reverie. "I couldn't deal with you on top of everything else," he said quietly. "I was so caught up in everything at first, getting settled in at James', and sorting myself out. The thought of writing to you was just...exhausting. I didn't feel like I could explain myself to you about that night. Fuck, I couldn't even explain it to myself."

"You know, Sirius, it wasn't just you. I was there too. We're both to blame for what happened."

He sighed raggedly again, and I saw his hand twitch against his leg as if he was jonesing for a fag. Talking of defense mechanisms.

Then he lifted his head from the wall and looked right at me. "It wasn't just about that night either," he said in resigned fashion, as if he knew I wasn't going to be happy about what he said next, but he was determined to say it nevertheless. As if the conversation could possibly deteriorate any further.

"I had just left my parents'. I had just left that entire shitfest of a world, and I didn't want to delve back into it by writing to you."

I gaped at him in wide eyed astonishment and hurt, "You see me as part of that world?" I whispered, horrified.

"You were," he said harshly, "and so was I. But you hadn't left yet, and I had."

His pronouncement hung heavy in the air. It felt almost as if he was condemning me, even though I knew he wasn't. I sank down to the floor and sat back against the cold, rough, wall of the castle, finding the smooth coolness of the stone floor against my bare legs soothing. I felt hollow, so I just sat there for a while, trying to process, while Sirius stared down at me.

As much as what Sirius was saying made my chest ache, I could sort of understand his reasoning for what he had done. It hurt like hell, but I could at least understand it. Even if I couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed.

I took a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. "Okay," I said. "I can accept that."

Sirius bit down on the inside of his lip and moved his mouth as if he was going to say something, before deciding against it and sliding down the opposite wall to the floor. His knees were bent out in front of him, his feet inches away from mine. Merlin, he had gotten tall.

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, sometimes looking at each other, sometimes just staring off into space lost in our own thoughts. I focused on trying remain as calm possible. I didn't know how long it was going to take me to get over my hurt, but I was trying to let go of my anger. Suddenly I just felt very tired. Tired and sad.

Then Sirius stretched out his legs a little further and captured one of my feet with his. I cocked my head at him. He looked up at me and I could see sadness, apprehension, and some unidentifiable intensity swirling in his deep, gray eyes.

"I missed you, Vee," he said quietly, earnestly. My breath caught, and my eyes started to water. "So much," I hadn't heard him call me that in nine months.

He ducked his head, looking unsure and vulnerable, so far from his usual cocky self. And I melted, just like I always did when it came to Sirius. How could I not? But it didn't feel like giving in, it felt like coming home, like sliding back into place, right where I belonged.

"I missed you too," I whispered, smiling shakily.

At that, Sirius got up and sank down next to me on my side of the wall. It felt so good to be sitting next to him again, feeling his side pressed into mine. Comfort passed between our bodies like osmosis. Perhaps all we'd really needed was to fight it out. Air all our feelings and our hurt. Make those things known to each other. Maybe it was best, to get it out of the way like this, however it came about, even if it _was_ emotionally driven. And maybe that was inevitable. I could never be rational when it came to Sirius. I doubted I'd ever be able to start. This was better, I decided. Better than holding my forgiveness hostage out of some perverse need to punish Sirius, despite the fact that I'd be punishing myself too. Yes, this was better.

I've never been a touchy-feely sort of person, but Sirius and I have always taken comfort from each other's physical presence. We'd been that way since I can remember, always attached to each other in some way, at the hip or otherwise.

Sirius was sort of like that with everyone, he was very physical with anyone that he liked or felt close to, but he was the only person that I felt close enough to be like that with. It took Sirius a while trust people, but once he did he gave you all of himself (not in the biblical sense, except, I suppose, with me). For all that he had been raised in a supremely hostile environment, Sirius was still able to open up to people. That had never come easy for me, and Sirius' ability to let people in was something I admired about him.

And so, sitting there, feeling him beside me, I closed my eyes and made a choice. I leaned my head on his shoulder, his shaggy, slightly overlong hair tickling my cheek, and sunk into him; sunk back into his life.


End file.
